Quicksand
by Dragon'sHost
Summary: Everything about this day makes Max feel very off-balance. Armada project: 43/365


**This is a pairing I always want to write things for, but lack the ideas to do so. It's quite tragic, really. I love them to pieces.**

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Feeling a headache coming on, Max removed his reading glasses and set them next to him on the table. He closed his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose in what he already knew was a futile attempt at curbing the pain blossoming inside his skull. Eye-strain, no doubt. He'd been at the textbook for far too long, and the noise inside the café was rapidly wearing on him. At first the dull murmur had been reassuring – a far cry from the silence at the Fairy Tail guild hall these days. A balm on his soul. But now it was just making it hard to concentrate on the dry book open in front of him.

"Excuse me."

Max's eyes blinked open at being addressed, and he looked up into the formidable gaze of a tall woman with long hair, part of which was done up in buns, another part in braids, and the rest left loose. "Can I help you?" he asked, curious about why she had approached him, and also wondering about how she managed that hairstyle. Which part would come first?

"I was wondering if I might join you," she said evenly, with a gesture of her arm that encompassed the rest of the café. "This is the last available seat."

"Oh, yeah, sure." Embarrassed, Max put his glasses back on and went back to perusing his textbook. But now his brain refused to cooperate altogether.

"What is that you're working on?" the woman suddenly asked. When he jerked his head up and stared at her, she shrugged. "You're frowning at it rather hard."

Max lifted a hand and idly scratched his cheek. "It's an accounting textbook. Thought I'd pick up a few classes for it to add to my business degree, but it's proving harder than I thought it would be." In truth, he was doing it so he could take a closer look at the loan documents that Twilight Ogre had on Fairy Tail. Something about them smelled fishy to Max.

She gave him a snort at his answer. "This seems like an odd place to try and study."

Shrugging, Max gave her a little laugh – not in the least offended. "Normally it's a little quieter than this. I actually like a bit of background noise. So what brings you here?"

One of her eyebrows arched at the question. "The coffee," she told him, amusement in her tone. Then she added, "I just finished a job in the area. And this place has good reviews, so I decided to check it out."

Max nodded in understanding at her statement. "Ah ha, no wonder I haven't seen you here before. I take it you're a mage? What guild are you with?"

Her lips twisted into a smile that was almost cruel.

It sent shivers down Max's spine.

"Sabertooth."

"I see. That's a pretty strong guild," Max said, suddenly and acutely aware of the Fairy Tail guild mark on his left arm. Thankfully it was concealed by his sleeves, but wariness crept through him. Although he wasn't familiar with this member of Sabertooth in particular, he knew how easily they would pick a fight with a Fairy Tail mage.

Unaware of Max's sudden defensiveness, the woman glanced over at the coffee counter. "It is," she replied, though her gaze seemed… off to Max. Like she was now the one being cautious.

Her eyes returned to his, and he was startled to see a small smile on her face. "I think my order is finally ready, and it's time I headed back to my guild. It was nice speaking with you."

"Max," he said, holding out his hand for her. "It was nice speaking with you, too." And it had been, honestly. She'd been nothing but polite to him for the entire exchange. Her guild aside, she seemed like a decent person.

Grasping his hand, she shook it with a firmness that wasn't really surprising to Max. "Minerva," she told him.

Somehow, Max felt as if his world had just shifted, a little. As if he was no longer standing on quite as firm of ground as he was before meeting Minerva.

He couldn't quite shake the suspicion that it was because he was now standing in quicksand.


End file.
